Splashed By The Pool Cleaner

Rachael Cavalli lounges by the pool with her tits half-hanging out of that tiny bikini top, smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Celtic Iron’s already shirtless and dripping sweat when she calls him over and tells him the tiles need a real good scrub. He gets down on his knees and starts, but she drops the second request with a wink: her back’s a bit sore and could really use strong hands. He stands up, wipes his palms on his shorts, steps in close. His fingers sink into warm skin as he massages her shoulders, and she leans back, sighing like she feels every inch of pressure. She reaches behind her, brushes his thigh, and tells him there’s one last thing. This time her voice drops lower. She turns around on the lounger, peels the bikini bottoms down an inch, and asks if he’s any good at rubbing oil somewhere a little more intimate. He laughs under his breath, pops the cap, pours a line across the small of her back, then lower. His slick hands glide over her ass, spreading the lotion in long, slow strokes while she arches and tells him not to stop. He keeps going until every curve shines in the sun, and she lets out a satisfied little hum that promises the pool isn’t the only thing getting a deep clean today.